Narkissos:
I believe we are all writing on the sand.
Knowing is cutting out pieces of "something" (being, reality, whatever) into separate "things" (of different categories like space and time, objects and events, etc.). Any "light" this process sheds on "anything" invariably results in obscuring "something else".
And the (non-)essence of this "light" is negation. We cast it wherever we look. Only against the negation of language do "things" appear -- offer an appearance or (sur)face -- as they seem to be.
Sometimes I think of languages and minds as beingworms: an army of "nos" splitting and breaking the unnamed like the worm does the earth; making it looser, smoother, more mobile or fluid perhaps; how our language-based technique does alter the so-called "material world" may be just an "aspect" of this process.
Or bubbles of "I am not" in the ocean of "being" -- the "outside of language" which we may never know better than the negation of a negation.
This is beautiful and insightful writing.
It seems the mind is continually cutting peaces out of the already whole-cloth of existence; and then wraps itself in its patchwork me-and-my-relationship-to-the-outside-universe. So, in the end, nothing the mind offers as "true" is the reality and actuality we seek; rather just more patchwork to reinforce the illusion of "self" and fragmented isolation.
Am "I" this shard of existence that seems separate and apart from all else? Can the minds frantic weaving be seen as it attempts to protect its patchwork creation with the thread of beliefs and thoughts of reincarnation and past lives? Am "I" what is believed to be? What is true? Who/what am I, really?
Perhaps sincere and earnest questions like these will bring an end to the dramatic story called "me". What remains, what IS, when there is no story???
You are That.
j